Angel of the Morning
by Kari Jo
Summary: Logan gets drunk; Marie sings. (L/R, Sorta angsty)


Title: Angel of the Morning  
Author: Kari Jo  
Email: [holly@members.limitless.org][1]  
Rating: PG [L]  
Summary: Logan gets drunk; Marie sings.  
Category: L/R angst, sorta  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Logan and Rogue are Marvel and Fox's, the song is Merilee Rush and Chip Taylor's. I don't have any money anyway, so it wouldn't even be worth it to sue me. n.n  
Archive: Go for it! Just let me know where so I can visit.  
Feedback: Definitely!  
Dedication: To Andariel, who gives me faith in my writing, even when I think it sucks, and to all the people who wrote angst in the last three days. This little story started out fluffy, but I finally figured out you don't need 'happily ever after' to be happy. n.n  
Author's Notes: Song lyrics are in italics.  


The bar was a dark, dingy place just outside of town that smelled like cheap beer and smoke. Although it was only four o'clock, a small congregation of men had started a poker game. A dark-haired man walked in carrying a box labeled 'Karaoke contest' and two sheets of paper. "Hey Phil," he called to the bartender, "didja get everything I asked for?" 

Phil nodded. "Need a hand? I hear dee jaying is pretty tough." 

The DJ rolled his eyes at the sarcastic comment. "Nah." He made his way to the stereo system, muttering something about stupid bartenders. He set the box he was carrying down with a thud and began setting up. 

Phil finished drying a glass and turned to the man newly seated at the far end of the counter. "Can I get you something, mister?" 

"Beer." 

Phil set an open bottle in front of the man. "You're a little early for the karaoke contest. Why're you sitting here at four in the afternoon?" 

The man made no reply other than to finish his beer and slam the bottle on the counter. 

Phil grabbed another. "You either lost a job or a woman." The man at the counter downed the second beer and growled. "Woman," Phil said with conviction. He seized another drink and set it before the customer. "This one's on me. Women are bitches. Why'd she dump ya?" 

Perhaps two beers in as many minutes loosened him up, or maybe he just wanted to set the record straight, but, whatever the reason, the man answered. "It wasn't like that." 

Knowingly, Phil nodded. "Another man, eh? I caught my ex in bed with her landlord. I 'bout killed 'em both. That bastard was damn lucky I didn't have a gun." 

The man at the counter fingered the neck of his nearly-empty third beer. "She's a virgin," he stated. 

Phil paused, thinking, as the man motioned for another bottle. "Now, I can't say I know much about virgins," he said carefully, "but I'm sure she'd'a done that to any guy. I bet it didn't have a thing to do with you personally, or you as a man." 

"Whadda ya mean?" the man asked, his voice low and dangerous. 

Phil shrugged as he set the new bottle on the counter, oblivious to the threat in the customer's tone. "I just assumed she made certain...promises, and then wouldn't deliver. Women do that, virgins more than most, or so I'd guess." 

A fifth beer was waiting for the man before he finished the fourth. "She wasn't ready," he muttered. 

Phil nodded. "Some girls never get ready. Some are born ready. If there's one thing I've learned about women, and it's prob'ly the only thing I've learned, it's that all of 'em are different." 

The man at the counter took a long drink before answering. "She's a real special girl." 

"All women are special, in their own special ways." A sixth bottle was open and waiting. "You oughtta slow down, you know. Five beers in half an hour is a lot." 

The man rose one eyebrow at the bartender. "You're the one who keeps handin' 'em to me." 

Phil grinned. "Yeah, I guess I am." He ripped a sheet of paper from a note pad and made five tally marks on it. He placed it and a pen near the man. 

"This is my sixth." 

"One was on the house, remember? I got some other customers now, so just holler when you need another. You stickin' around for the contest tonight?" The man shrugged. "It's gonna be interesting, at least." Phil began taking orders and filling glasses, as the man at the bar kept drinking. 

There were twenty three tally marks on the paper. 

Phil shook his head as he handed the man another. "Most men are passed out by fifteen." 

The customer, clearly intoxicated, but not obnoxiously so, shrugged. "I can hold my liquor better'n most men." 

The bartender nodded. "Obviously." 

A young blonde finished her rendition of Shania Twain's 'Any Man of Mine' and stepped of the stage, to much applause. The dark-haired DJ spoke into the microphone. "Let's give Ariel a hand! That was beautiful, honey. Meet me later?" A collective laugh arose from the crowd, and the DJ continued. "We do have one last contestant, a late entry. Please give it up for Marie!" 

The man at the counter snorted. "Damn the irony." 

Phil glanced at him. "What're you talking about?" he asked. 

"The girl that drove me to this was named Marie." He motioned to the sheet of paper as he spoke. 

Phil grinned. "Is 'at so?" He looked up at the raised part of the floor that passed as a stage. 

The young woman named Marie held the microphone nervously in her gloved right hand. A slight southern accent punctuated her speech. "I'd like to dedicate this to the man I love. You know who you are." Her gaze was fixed on the suddenly tense man at the bar. 

The music started and she began to sing. The man at the counter whispered, "No, oh God, it can't be..." Her words seemed to hold the man transfixed. 

"_There'll be no strings to bind your hands, not if my love can't bind your heart. And there's no need to take a stand, for it was I who chose to start. I see no need to take me home, I'm old enough to face the dawn._" Her voice was soft and clear, and carried well in the hushed room. 

The man murmured, "No Marie, no you're not." Phil watched the man, a puzzled look on his face. Understanding quickly followed. 

"_Just call me angel of the morning, angel. Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby. Just call me angel of the morning, angel. Then slowly turn away...from me._" 

Most of the patrons clapped during the brief pause between the chorus and verse, and that seemed to rouse the man from his trance. He stood up from the barstool that he hadn't left since four that afternoon, and started searching in his pockets. 

The young woman on the stage stared at the counter, her eyes tracing each movement the man made as she sang, each note heart-felt and genuine. "_Maybe the sun's light will be dim, and it won't matter anyhow. If morning's echo says we've sinned, well, it was what I wanted now. And if we're the victims of the night, I won't be blinded by light._" 

The man pulled a fifty out of his wallet and threw it on the bar. "This enough?" he asked Phil. The bartender nodded, his eyes transfixed on Marie. The man walked toward the door, but stopped short of leaving when she sang the chorus. 

"_Just call me angel of the morning, angel. Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby. Just call me angel of the morning, angel. Then slowly turn away...I won't beg you to stay...with me._" Marie stared as the man pushed open the door and left. Tears welled up in her eyes as she brokenly finished the song. "_Through the tears of the day, of the years, baby, baby, baby. Just call me angel of the morning, angel. Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby._" The music stopped, and she murmured, "Just love me," before she ran off the stage and out into the night. 

  
The End 

> _Angel of the Morning - Merilee Rush & the Turnabouts _
> 
> There'll be no strings to bind your hands  
not if my love can't bind your heart.  
And there's no need to take a stand  
for it was I who chose to start.  
I see no need to take me home,  
I'm old enough to face the dawn. 
> 
> Just call me angel of the morning, angel  
just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby.  
Just call me angel of the morning, angel  
then slowly turn away from me. 
> 
> Maybe the sun's light will be dim  
and it won't matter anyhow.  
If morning's echo says we've sinned,  
well, it was what I wanted now.  
And if we're the victims of the night,  
I won't be blinded by light. 
> 
> Just call me angel of the morning, angel  
just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby.  
Just call me angel of the morning, angel  
then slowly turn away,  
I won't beg you to stay with me  

> 
> Through the tears of the day,  
of the years, baby baby baby. 
> 
> Just call me angel of the morning, angel  
just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby.

   [1]: mailto:holly@members.limitless.org



End file.
